


I Am Left To Face Me

by 0oLadyDeliriumo0



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Regret
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:25:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0oLadyDeliriumo0/pseuds/0oLadyDeliriumo0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the ill-begotten shade with a silver tongue, hiding fractured bones and a broken soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Jailer

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these poems are written over at my Pitch Black rp blog and will vary in the characters they contain and the point of view they are written from. Tags will be added as they become applicable.  
> All poems can also be found over at Tapestry-Of-Screams.tumblr.com

He tried. 

            He 

                    _Tried_

                              So

                               **Hard**

               To  **save**  her. 

       He gave                            his body

                                       his   **S O U L**

                                                             All for naught.

                  All for naught because he  **still** _lost._

**He still lost her. **

                                     His baby. 

                                                             His princess. 

                 The anchor for his every choice.

                                                                And now he walks **alone.**  

                    _Aimless_

                  And yet                      Still the  _same_  as before.

        He is a walking **cage**. 

                                      Flesh walls

                                                Bone bars

                                   A sinew door locked tight

             With gnarled, knotted       scar tissue

He still holds the key.

 

                                                           He is still the   **J A I L E R**


	2. The Wordsmith

 

      He's spiteful.

                      He's bitter.                                  He   **h a t e s.  **

                                   It's himself that he hates. 

                  That he holds the utmost                  contempt for. 

But, he projects it  

                        Onto everyone else. 

          No one is   **s a f e.  **

            **{** She wasn't safe. He failed. He failed.  **H e**    **f a i l e d.** **}**

 

                           His edges are sharp.

         Not rounded.

                               Or

                                      buffed smooth.

                                                                 He's all teeth.

                                                He's all claws.

                           He's a silver, quick witted tongue with

                 Lupine teeth and words meant to lull

                                                        or to   **m a i m.**

             He's callous.

                     He's the   **m o n s t e r**   outside your bedroom door. 

Prowling 

                          hungry

                                                     He takes no prisoners. 

He's merciless. 

                     He's unforgiving. 

 

                                    Because so were  **T H E Y**


	3. The Beast

 

 For your own sake,

          for the simple reason to preserve your sanity,

          your goodness                     your  ** h e a r t.** 

Do  _not_  fall in love with  _him_

                        He's war torn, 

                                              he's vindictive, 

                        He's ruthless, 

             He'll strike without warning, 

         and he'll drink your warmth,

                                he'll turn your skin into

                 armored scales

                            **{** Just like his **}**

                                                           He will take your kind words

                                and he will twist them into something that

             you don't recognize. 

          He doesn't know how to be gentle,

                          only cruel       only bitter       only contrite

       you'll offer him   **l o v e**      but in turn he'll offer confusion,

                                       he'll offer heartbreak because

         that is all he knows anymore,

                           that's all he's seen, and that is all he's been given. 

And he's impossible to understand,

                           Impossible to predict, 

                                                               And he can't love you back. 

              **{** He could once but       not now **}**

 

Because he's   **f o r g o t t e n**   how. 

 


	4. The Mantle of Father

  Do you know what it’s like

        to love someone so much that you would give

                     literally  **{**   _EVERYTHING_   **}**

                                                to  **save**  them?

And when I say everything, I  **mean**  it. 

                      I mean your body

                                    your  **soul**

                                               your  **LIFE**

                   Can you even possibly begin to fathom

         what it’s like when     you’ve given those things

                only to find out much later that 

**NONE OF IT MATTERED**

                   That despite how long  **suffering**  you are,

           despite being a good man

                              a hero   a General   a  **Father**

             despite  **sacrificing**  your very being 

                               for one

                                           _precious_

                                                       **darling**

                                                                 ** _little girl_**

               **{ YOU _STILL_  LOST HER }**

 Well I do. 

      I know exactly what it is like

                   to lose someone that you value above

             everything 

                          and 

                            everyone else

                   **{**  I never had the chance to say goodbye  **}**

    I fought the good fight                     and I failed

                             **{**  I miss her,  _I miss her so much_ **}**

                   I assumed the mantle of  **Father**

                                         of  **Papa**

                                                   of  _ **Daddy**_

                   And

                                    I

                                                  **F A I L E D**

                    I was not enough

                                        I am still not

                                                    _ **E N O U G H**_

        **{** _ I’m so sorry, Sera._ **}**

I’m sorry that I couldn’t be a better Daddy. 

 


	5. Moonflowers

Based off of this [flower prompt](http://tapestry-of-screams.tumblr.com/post/62483857573/flower-asks) on tumblr, the sun flowers one in particular. 

\-- 

Happy.

What actually did make him  _happy?_

It was not something he’d thought about or even remotely considered in… Well it seemed to be bordering on forever now. Emotions such as happiness, such as being carefree or even jovial were not, well they were not in his repertoire of things to feel. Not even for a man like him, who felt things with a fierce intensity that he had expertly managed hide behind a snide grin with lupine teeth and hard void eyes.  

Did he even remember what happiness felt like? Possibly. Was it a warm feeling? like sunshine kissing lush skin bronze as it dipped toward the horizon on a summer’s day? Or was it like it sinking into the near scalding water of a freshly drawn bath after being out in the cold? Where it would hurt as it licked at the skin, the body thinking it to be painful, to burn until it adjusted and realized that it was good, that it was life giving warmth, heat. 

And did it have a color? Something in the spectrum of burnt autumn golds and oranges? Was it filled with a sheen or sparkle that mimicked sunlight dancing over a child’s face, lighting up her smile and highlighting dimples that belonged to the woman who brought her into the world?

Was there a scent that went along with it too? Perhaps something like incense and wild flowers. Or maybe even a delicate, earthy perfume that was never too overbearing, that was always just right, perfect.

There was a noise then, a tinkling, bell-like laugh. The heartwarming giggle of a child, a little girl. 

_"Come on, Daddy! I want to show you something!" a child, young and with wild dark auburn hair pulled on the her father’s hand, dragging him along through the winding and seemingly endless gardens of their estate._

_"Oh? and what is that, Pup?" the man replied, hair the same as his child who looked to be his exact replica, sharing his his beak-like nose as well._

_"You’ll see!" she chimed, whipping her head back to glance over her shoulder to make sure Daddy was still following her, bright and expressive green eyes alive with her excitement. "Close your eyes, you’ll ruin the surprise if you don’t!"_

_With a melodic chuckle, the man did as he was told, eyes of a warm honey shade falling shut as he allowed his his little girl to continue guiding him by the hand._

_A few more minutes passed before he heard an excited squeal from beside him and felt his hand move in the little girl’s deceivingly strong grip. “Okay, okay, open your eyes!”_

_With a flutter of dark lashes, he peered out at the garden around him but it didn’t take him long to figure out just what exactly his darling daughter was so excited about. His mouth gaped a bit before it cracked into an absolutely thrilled grin._

_"Sera—"_

_"Moonflowers! Mommy says they’re your favorite, so we planted a bush just for you." He nodded before leaning down to sweep little Seraphina with untamed hair and her mother’s eyes and dimples up in his embrace, earning him an ecstatic giggle._

_"Thank you."_

__

Pitch sucked in a breath, his lips taut and he nearly coughed, the sudden ache in his chest pressing up brazenly against his lungs and heart. His eyes clamped shut and he tried, he  _tried so desperately_  to control himself to mask his hurt, his anguish but he couldn’t, the flashback was just so vivid. 

And the realization hit him then, in the form of gritted teeth and the sound that only a man in agony or a dying animal should be able to make. He  _did_  know what happiness was like, he knew that it felt like warm breezes, sounded like his babygirl’s laughter and smelled of moonflowers planted by a loving wife who was slaughtered protecting her planet and the  _precious_  little life they had created together. 

He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat, back tensing to the point where he could feel every little stress and anxiety driven knot tightening up and making his spine crick painfully. 

"No, not anymore." a response passed through his lips in a breeze of gentle consonants amplified with a head shake. He was too tired to keep up his facade, he’d repair it later when he could get past how utterly  _crippled_  he now felt. 

He moved then, minutely though stiffly into a splotch of shadow that clung to the slate wall of his lair like spiderwebs and allowed it to pull him in and take him away where the outside world could no longer dredge up his long repressed memories. 


End file.
